


Midnight Ain’t So Bad

by ds9trekkie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Boys Kissing, Brothers, Domestic Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Hiatus, Idiots in Love, Incest, Kissing, Kissing at Midnight, Love, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, One Shot, Romance, Sappy, Season/Series 14, Sibling Incest, Teasing, Traditions, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ds9trekkie/pseuds/ds9trekkie
Summary: There’s one annual tradition that Dean never forgets.





	Midnight Ain’t So Bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wayward_Daughter_16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Daughter_16/gifts).



> Just a quick thing I wrote for the love of my life, whom I had the privilege of kissing at midnight <3

Holiday traditions typically aren’t something Dean clings to, he’s never really had that luxury. Traditions are for normal people with houses above ground and cheesy decorations to fill them with. Traditions are for families that cook oversized turkeys for three days and sing corny songs about joy and peace. 

Not really their kind of gig.

But there’s one tradition that’s _sacred_ , one that Dean might even admit he looks forward to.

It’s 11:55pm on New Years Eve and the Bunker is quiet. For some naive reason, Jack wanted to experience the insanity of Times Square. So naturally, Castiel volunteered immediately to take the kid. Sam and Dean were of course invited, but Dean would sooner dig up hundreds of rotting graves rather than stand in the freezing cold and watch these modern buffoons play what they call music.

Dean is a little worried about the two of them being there alone, but he trusts Cas to bring them both back home in once piece. Plus, he’s definitely excited for him and Sam to have the place to themselves for a while.

Sam is tucked under Dean’s arm, sitting comfortably on the couch. The lamp lighting is low and the radio plays Zeppelin softly in the background. A couple of warm beers and an old dusty book Sam was reading lay forgotten on the coffee table. Dean’s eye glaze over as he gets lost staring into the fake dancing flames of the little electric fireplace. Sam purchased it back in the beginning of the winter and it’s a pretty decent spacer heater for it’s size.

Dean hates that he likes the stupid thing. 

Cozy and content as he’ll ever be, Dean’s eyelids are heavy as he starts drifting off. Sam yawns and readjusts slightly, pressing his body further against Dean’s and waking him out of his sleepy haze in the process.

There’s a twinge in his lower back and Dean realizes he feels _old._

Stopping himself from spiraling too deep into that thought process, he chuckles instead, “We’re so lame right now.”

Sam grumbles something incoherent, apparently fading faster than his brother.

Dean shakes off the tiredness and begins to rise, “Get up, little brother. It’s New Years Eve and we’re not ringing in 2019 drinkin’ this piss.”

Sam protests weakly and attempts to keep Dean glued to the cushions. “I’ll be right back, ya brat.”

Dean notices the faintest pout spread across Sam’s face as he reaches for a blanket and wraps it around his shoulders like a drama queen. Just as promised, Dean returns within seconds, this time with two tumblers filled with some ancient whiskey the Men of Letters left behind.

He gives one to Sam and clanks their glasses together, “Bottoms up.”

Sam downs it in one swig like a pro, sweeping his tongue out and licking the remaining liquid off his glistening lips. He’s staring at Dean with delicious intent, simply waiting. Dean mirrors his brother and finishes his drink in one gulp, glancing at the clock quickly while he does so.

_11:59pm_

Dean plops down and invades Sam’s space, both men practically chest to chest now. He leans in, but dodges Sam’s return movement with practiced efficiency. He absolutely loves teasing Sam, the build up one of his most treasured parts. Dean noses his way up along Sam’s neck, liquor coated lips leaving a featherlight and torturous trail.

As if for the first time, Dean’s heart starts beating and his blood starts circulating when he hears Sam gasp “Dean,” his voice dripping with a mixture of lust and an edge of frustration.

Dean’s fingers curl possessively around a tuft of satin brown hair, tugging a little while nipping cruelly at the baby soft skin of Sam’s earlobe. Sam’s hands start wandering, blindly mapping Dean’s back and pulling him in closer.

His pants are becoming uncomfortably tight and Dean realizes he’s teasing himself more than Sam at this point.

“Dean, it has to be freakin’ midnight by now,” Sam whines, his giant paws desperately roaming anywhere and everywhere.

Smirking, Dean exhales a small laugh when he kisses the corner of Sam’s mouth, “Mmm...probably.”

Dean pulls back just enough to view and capture Sam’s blush reddened cheeks between his weathered hands, “Happy New Year, Sammy.”

The hazel myriad of Sam’s eyes are eclipsed in blackness and Dean has to catch his breath because he’s just so goddamn beautiful. When Dean finally kisses him on the lips, he swears it’s the most delicate thing he’s ever done. This feeling is better than _anything,_ pure in it’s intention and raw with vulnerability. He’s never kissed anyone else on this night and he never will.

Sam kisses him back with so much enthusiasm Dean thinks they might topple off the couch. There’s no words, no empty promises of superficial resolutions, none of the mainstream bullshit. It’s just _them_ and they will _always_ be enough.


End file.
